


An Ineffable Infatuation

by Bearfeat



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Aziraphale and Crowley's first kiss, Demon, Fluff, Frenemies, Love, M/M, There is a sex scene but no explicit language is used, This is set right after the story ends, angel - Freeform, ineffable husbands, it is actually quite wholesome, no use of explicit language, supernatural orgasms tho, they are both male in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-07-28 06:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearfeat/pseuds/Bearfeat
Summary: After having saved the world, Crowley shows Aziraphale his bookshop, and how he was able to miracle it all back. A conversation ensues, exploring The Library of Alexandria, Alpha Centauri, and the Thing about Armageddon.





	1. Part One: An Intimate Acquaintanceship, Or The Thing about Armageddon

Aziraphale’s bookshop was restored. Or rather, when the angel entered, taking in all of the space around him, he decided it was more like it was never even destroyed.

‘The library of Alexandria.’ He said. The tips of his finger sliding over a bookshelf and collecting a bit of dust. Even the traces of his preoccupied mind, his lack of a good grasp on time and therefor a good grasp on how often one must dust, even those traces were still there.

‘Hardly.’ Said Crowly. ‘I mean, your bookshop is nice, you _know_ I think it is nice-’

‘It was your doing, wasn’t it? Burning it down?’ He watched Crowley open his mouth in protest, but then clarified:

‘The library.’

‘Julius Caesar wouldn’t like me taking credit, but…’ Crowley hesitated, staring at a set point about twelve inches above Aziraphale’s left shoulder.

‘But?’

‘I might’ve handed him the match.’ He looked at the angel now. Aziraphale could see the guilty eyes burn behind the dark shades. There was a silence, leading to the demon shuffling his feet uncomfortably and pulling up his shoulders.

‘I am sorry, okay? I know you were fond of the place!’

‘Oh, it’s in the past.’ Aziraphale turned away to let his fingers go over more and lesser dusty shelves. His voice was weaker. Absent, almost.

‘I was just wondering why it didn’t get resurrected the way you resurrected my shop.’

‘I see.’

Aziraphale stepped over the creaking floorboard and up the seven steps into the section on religion. He did hear Crowley mutter on about something, but he was far too busy collecting his thoughts from the crooks and crannies of his precious collection and he had concluded that the demon would speak up if it were truly important.

‘Is… is something still burning?’ Aziraphale sniffed, recognizing sulphur in the air.

‘Nuh… can’t be!’

Aziraphale sniffed again, a great, big, dollop of air, but it was there. The smell of sulphur was there.

‘When was the last time you took a shower?’ The angel said.

A crooked smile danced over Crowley’s lips.

‘The thing about Armageddon, angel, is that it is never definitive.’

Aziraphale blinked.

‘But it is! That’s it’s whole _schtick_. The last judgement! The final war!’

He waved his hands, almost as if to apologize he didn’t put it as eloquently as he would have liked to.

‘It’s _subjective_. You and I, we have witnessed Armageddon plenty of times.’ Crowley came closer, looking at the other over his shades with those amber-colored eyes of his. His thin pupils seemed to pulse, widen and shrink again, as he spoke.

‘The flood after Noah built his arc, must have been Armageddon to many. _La Terreur_, Armageddon. The burning of the Library of Alexandria, Armageddon. And yet!’ He raised his voice and a finger in the air, making a nearby houseplant shiver.

‘The human race has grown bigger than the two of us could have even predicted. The rich are still getting richer! And every idiot carries around a device giving access to all knowledge within human range.’

‘I see your point, Crowley.’ The angel sighed. ‘But you must forgive me for disagreeing. We came rather close this time.’

The demon’s face tightened as he gave a small nod. Aziraphale could feel the slight pressure of his exhale on his bowtie.

‘Very close.’ The demon said. The smell of burning was more fragrant than ever.

‘Ah…’ Aziraphale muttered. He meant to go further into the whole Armageddon-being-definitive-thing, but there was more pulsing in those amber eyes. Aziraphale wished Crowley’d take off his shades.

‘I am glad we saved the worl- our home.’

‘Me too, angel.’

The thing about Armageddon was also that every time it had happened, Crowley and Aziraphale had very little world-saving left to do and a lot of miracle-ing all over, which often meant spending a lot of time on their own.

Apart.

Away from each other.

‘I have a bottle of red in my study.’ Aziraphale whispered. He tore himself away from the amber and the curling lips and lead the way.

‘Just the one, eh?’ Crowley grinned.

‘Now Crowley, you know me better than that.’

An angel and a demon getting drunk together usually means vicious plans or great ideas are afoot. Sometimes they can be the same thing.

‘Crowleyyy…’ Aziraphale wasn’t drunk, he had merely finished his bottle.

‘Are you blushing, angel?’ Crowley wasn’t drunk, either.

‘I wasn’t afraid down there, you know! With your... colleagues.’

‘You told me about the rubber duck. Quite impressive! I growled at Gabriel.´

´You _growled_?’

‘Spat fire.’ In his smile, the demon showed teeth.

Aziraphale’s face was burning. His white suit was warm around him. It seemed as though the heat had never left his bookshop.

‘I couldn’t have abandoned humanity, you know.’ He said after a while. For a moment, he thought there was a lump in his throat. Maybe he was just a tiny bit tipsy.

‘When you asked me to leave with you… for Alpha Centauri…’

Crowley sat up in his chair. The subject made him move his hands restlessly over his legs and the armrest.

‘I just… I couldn’t believe you’d ask me that.’

Crowley bit his lip. His cheeks tensed.

‘I tried to save us.’

Aziraphale held back his thoughts. They were having such a nice time. But the words seemed to be out already. He hadn’t even drunk that much wine.

‘There’s no ‘us’ without _them_.’ Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and looked to the door. Behind it was the world.

‘I have offended you.’ Crowley said, matter-of-factly.

‘Ah…’ the angel said, still looking away, ‘you have, actually.’

‘Ange… ah, man… I didn’t mea-’ the demon sighed.

‘Well.’ He said. ‘Well!’ He was NOT drunk. He stood up, his auburn hair dancing as he couldn’t suppress a hiss, and Aziraphale was afraid that in his anger he would make his way to the door.

‘I wasn’t going to leave without you!’ Crowley said loudly. ‘I wasn’t going to leave the human race! I just tried to… I tried to…’ he looked down at the angel. Seeing his puffy, blushing face and his wet eyes seemed to anger him more. Aziraphale gasped when Crowley lunged at him and grabbed him by his vest, knotting his fist in the fabric.

‘Why are you like thissss?’ the tip of his tongue came out. ‘Why won’t you appreciate what I am trying to do for you?’

Pride and words were stuck in Aziraphale’s throat. He never feared the demon. If anything, he felt his hurt, the hurt about _his_ hurt. All this hurting and feeling hurt didn’t seem very productive, and Aziraphale wished he could express this to the demon, but the fist in his vest loosened and Crowley actually did make his way for the door now.

‘Crowley!’ the other stopped with equal parts reluctance and eagerness.

‘Don’t go!’ the angel stood up too fast and got light-headed, not because he had been drinking, and then he stumbled over his own feet. Because he could be quite clumsy, certainly not because of the wine. Aziraphale had found his words and the guts to finally formulate his thoughts, but he lost his balance and had to turn to exhibiting this bravery in a non-verbal way.

He clung to the demon, who turned in time to witness the fall. He witnessed it as much as becoming an inherent part of it. He then let out a helpless ‘Oof!’ as he was dragged to the ground.

It was almost Aziraphale’s final moment of bravery when he actually put his weight on the other man, pinning him down, hands clawing at his jacket.

The thing about Armageddon, Aziraphale thought, was that you never knew how it was going to end, even if you have felt it coming for 6000 years.


	2. Part Two2: An Extraordinary Implementation, or Sharing Experience on the Matter

‘Oof…’ Crowley grumbled agian, trying to shift his hips. The mark next to his ear seemed to ripple, but only for a moment. Aziraphale didn’t know what to make of that.

‘You got quite the grip there, angel.’

They were so close Aziraphale could see his amber-colored eyes shine through the dark glasses. It annoyed him, those shades. They weren’t necessary at this time of night at all, so he took them between thumb and finger and placed them on the coffee table.

‘Don’t go.’ He said again.

Crowley’s eyebrows raised almost as high as his hairline and he opened his mouth extra wide to stress just how sarcastic he meant to sound when he said:

‘Well it’s not like I’m pinned down by someone who is quite a bit heavier than he looks.’

‘Stay.’ Demanded Aziraphale, even though his voice now was wavering. Specks of gold floated behind the amber of Crowley’s eyes.

The upper hand he had was completely lost when Crowley let those exposed eyes fall to his pursed lips. A plan formed, the angel saw. He lost strength in his grip, and then he lost his breath, and then Crowley kissed him with an open mouth that captured all of his and he lost his mind. Aziraphale tensed for a moment. The demon felt surprisingly soft like this. Time stood still and a lifetime passed before Crowley broke the kiss, which, in fact, had taken just little over three seconds.

Their breathing mingled as they turned under the eye of the rich and starry universe.

Their gaze grew from questioning to tender. Crowley moved his hand in Aziraphale’s hair as the angel leaned down to taste him again. He parted his lips, seeking for Crowley’s guidance. His eyes were closed now. A small sound when their lips lost the touch, then new contact, heavier than before. Aziraphale could fee Crowley’s breath. He searched for a way to taste more of the other, and then their tongues met.

He had seen the affect in people before: the flushing of the skin, the shortness of breath, indicating a raised heartbeat. He had never felt it quite like this. He was hot in his suit, very sudden and more urgent than before, but he only noticed this when he was kissing Crowley as deeply as he could possibly imagine. Their tongues slid over each other slowly, their lips moving as if trying to find each other better over and over. It felt devastating to Aziraphale, because he didn’t know how he could possibly want someone this much, yet be with them _more_.

His thinking turned from yearning to panic and he felt a rush of embarrassment. He had thrown himself onto the demon, assaulting him, subjecting him to this sudden want. He broke the kiss and struggled to get up, but the demon locked his slender legs around his hips.

More than accepting of his fate, Crowley leaned his head back and raised his chin. He didn’t mind looking his angel in the eye from this position.

‘Tickety-boo.’ He said, mockingly, slightly touching Aziraphale’s collarbone. He drew his hand down, drawing a line to his chest. A tremor in his finger, and Aziraphale noticed it when his sharp nail touched skin.

He looked down and saw, wherever his hand went, the angel’s garments disappeared.

He sucked in a gulp of breath, already stuttering in protest, but the demon raised an eyebrow, continuing. Knowing. Aziraphale swallowed his words. The touch made him shiver. Not of cold exactly- the bookshop still felt like it was burning- more so the incredible vulnerability of being naked. He ignored every instinct shouting at him to cover himself. He couldn’t move, nor did he want to, and he watched with watery eyes as the demon removed his own clothes like this too. At first, he tried to ignore the nakedness and the pressed-togetherness of their genitalia at this point, but then the demon exhaled and rolled his hips. Aziraphale watched the pointed teeth through his parted lips, feeling something stronger than fear or purity overcome him. He ignored every instinct shouting at him to cover himself.

‘Do you know how to do it, angel?’ Crowley breathed. His voice was thin and dark, like ancient parchment. The smell of sulphur was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t mocking Aziraphale now. His fingertips pressed behind the angel’s ears. Aziraphale nodded.

‘I… I have done… I have witnessed…’

Crowley’s amber eyes spread wide in surprise, silent admiration. Aziraphale felt an embarrassing blush creeping up his neck, the kind you may encounter whenever you find yourself daydreaming in the park over a nice strawberry and fudge sunday and then you realize each and every one of your daydreams involve equal parts comfort food and equal parts a demon you love and who considers you his best friend and then that handsome demon asks you if you have ever had sex… that kind of blush.

Crowley’s lips parted further, but Aziraphale pressed a finger to them. Getting into the how’s and why’s of his skills would only make him shy or worse: cause him to panic again.

‘I know, Crowley. The important thing is now, that you let me know what you want, exactly.’

Aziraphale saw the demon’s chest rise, biting his tongue before he could answer. His body was hot and pulsing under him, a drip of sweat rolling between their skin. Crowley tilted his pelvis, pressing his crotch up to meet the angel’s. Aziraphale felt that very human sensation of breathlessness again.

Taking the risk of passing out due to a shortage in oxygen (sometimes Aziraphale forgot things like breathing weren’t even that necessary for his kind), he tended to the pleading flesh of Crowley’s loins. Pressig his palms to the back of his slender legs, he pushed Crowley’s knees to his chest. The demon arched his back, hissing, his manhood heating and growing, and Aziraphale could do no more than put his mouth on it.

‘Angel…’ Crowley begged. There was surprise there, and pleasure. Aziraphale dragged his warm tongue over the warmer inner buttock of the demon, reveling in the sounds it extracted from him. He had always thought Crowley to have a well-shaped behind. He did it once more, passing the puckering anus and taking the supple skin of his sack between his lips.

‘Angel…’ the demon muttered again, when Aziraphale inhaled and drew his tongue up and down. The genitals of a demon male didn’t differ much from that of a human male, he thought. Except for the color, the taste… and the strength.

Delighted Aziraphale was, when he found the hardening member to bare a glans with the same shade of amber as his demon eyes. The smell of sulphur swirled around him, reminding him of new year’s eve, or that one time they spent the fourth of July together, but the taste was rather sweet. Not salty at all. Aziraphale guessed that salt was a human thing.

The head was like a smoldering cinder in his throat. It was gentle, as were the sounds coming from Crowley. As Aziraphale worked, taking in all he could imagine, licking whatever his mouth found, the demon reached down and weaved his fingers into his white hair.

‘Where did you… learn this…’ he managed to get out. ‘Angel…’

He hardened more, forcing Aziraphale’s jaws open further. The angel pulled away, pressing the demon’s legs further apart, and let some saliva drip from the tip of his tongue before pressing it to Crowley’s anus again. The grip on his hair tightened. He knew how to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may know already, there is no such things as ‘gender’ in the realms of angels and demons. Angels are mostly without sex, and like most (but definitely not all) people, this can get quite frustrating in the long run and may lead passive-aggressive remarks, slap-fights and long periods of not talking to certain people. Demons once thought it a good idea to demand genitals from God, which may be part of the reason they were shunned. Some up-and-left themselves over this reason. All to no avail of course, and most of them were left with the same old boring piece of skin that was solely there to separate the hip from the upper leg. But Crowley and Aziraphale are, as they are in many cases, the exception to the rule. During their time on earth they began (separately from each other) to miracle themselves more and more in the image of the species around them, because, as Aziraphale would put it and as Crowley would never admit he absolutely agrees, it would make them feel more like themselves.


	3. Part Three: An Inescapable Extasy

Now, before any of this came about nothing in the universe could have predicted an angel and a demon coming together in this fashion. The final clash between the celestial beings on opposite sides of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ was imagined to be more war-like, less friendly, yet exactly this sweaty. Truly, no one could have seen it coming, except for a certain seventh-century witch.

“After the ende of things, goode and bad cometh together and if they are so inclined, they might cometh again.” Agness Nutter wrote. None of her descendants interpreted this correctly. They settled on the rather nihilistic concept that nothing really mattered after the end of times anyway.

Aziraphale had never heard Crowley been this quiet. He was aware of his breathing and a restrained hiss passing the demon’s lips, but the man seemed to have gone post-verbal, encouraging the angel with fingertips swirling in his soft, white hair. Aziraphale hummed, his face pressing closer, burying deeper. He ran his hands over Crowley’s chest and slender frame. Tension in his abdomen, still no sound. Something leaked from the amber tip of Crowley’s member and rolled down.

‘My darling,’ Aziraphale said softly. Crowley’s sharp inhale cut through the back room of his bookshop. The angel put his palms to the floor to lift himself and look the other in the eye, to see if there was anything there to navigate him, but the slits of Crowley’s pupils were wide and pulsing like anything, any coherency or ratio fogged. Crowley’s lips moved. His fingers slid from Aziraphale’s crown to his face. The sigil on his cheek now slithered slowly in place. The angel closed in, pressing his lips against it.

There was a remarkable difference of warmth between their bodies. Where Aziraphale felt like he was summery, like after a brisk walk, Crowley’s skin was feverishly hot and acting exactly like a roaring fire ready to consume. The angel felt sweat spring from his chest the moment their bodies were pressed together once more, and once more he reveled in the magnificence that was Crowley.

The demon’s hand closed around his sex, extracting a whimper from his throat.

‘Crow-ley,’ Aziraphale stammered.

Crowley swallowed hard, licking his dry lips. He moved his hand, massaging him, wrapping his leg around Aziraphale’s waist. The demon let go of his member and drew a fast and complicated figure in the air. Then he dove his heel into the angel’s buttocks.

‘Oh!’ Aziraphale exclaimed, feeling how slick Crowley had made himself. He was so determined before, but now he took pause. His thighs were shaking as he felt the demon press him down, and further inside. His chest and shoulders tense, he tried to lower himself with ease (and dignity), but Crowley felt incredibly… wet and hot and _smooth_ and _burning_. It was him who was at a loss for words when Crowley dug his long fingers into his soft hips and pulled him even closer. One corner of his mouth curled up into a crooked smile when he made his body pulse around Aziraphale´s sex, urging him deeper.

‘Angel, you are blushing.’ Crowley whispered. Aziraphale had heard him say it before, but now his voice was thick, yet brittle, like a raincloud or whipped cream. A drop of sweat rolled down Aziraphale’s temple. He could feel it on his cheek when he lowered himself to kiss his lover.

He pushed, lightning cracking outside as Crowley moaned in pleasure, making all of Soho light up for a moment. Crowley’s head fell back and Aziraphale moved an arm under his neck, worrying the carpet might not be comfortable, and at the same time acquiring a great hold. They found a rhythm together, Aziraphale feeling Crowley suffer his long, deep strokes, Crowley seeing Aziraphale grow more triumphant (and pink) at every sound he extracted from the demon.

∞

Crowley heaved, tracing his fingertips up over Aziraphale´s shoulders, and back down again, squeezing. There were questions in his mind about how, and with whom… but they were irrelevant. They were…

The angel was like an foaming ocean, sizzling, brushing all around and inside him. He felt cool, keeping the fire in Crowley´s veins at bay. The demon felt safe, like a piece of driftwood that would never sink, no matter how violent the waves would get.

He moaned loudly when Aziraphale held his legs to use a different angle for his thrust.

´Ah… angel!´ He felt is toes curl, but it was too soon. He didn´t want to think of ending any of this. Grabbing Aziraphale´s shoulders, he pushed, getting himself a bit more space. The storm in the angel´s bright eyes seemed to subside for a moment, and his pink lips parted in an unspoken question.

Not waiting to catch his breath, Crowley clenched his thighs, trapping the other, and rolled them over with surprising strength. Aziraphale made a high-pitched sound, probably originating from something primal telling him he couldn’t be ‘under’ a demon, and sighed, smiling when Crowley rolled his hips.

‘You thought you were going to have to do all the work.’ Crowley mumbled, taking Aziraphale’s hand and bringing it to his lips.

‘Let me have some of it, angel… let me look at you.’ He ran his tongue over Aziraphale’s wrist, feeling the hand unfold over his cheek. He touched the angel’s chest, emjoying the subtle warmth of his skin. Aziraphale’s heart was beating at the demon’s touch, and Crowley appreciated it, loving it, imagining it under the fine, blonde hairs he was rolling between his fingers. The angel’s face changed at Crowley’s touches, his cheeks rounding and relaxing in a series of half-smiles and frowns of concentration. His eyes were watery and emitting a pale light, and he kept pushing up into the demon at a steady pace.

∞

The smell of sulphur was unbearable. Crowley arched his long, slender torso back, his face pointed to the sky, looking even more sharp than before. In a glance, Aziraphale saw the serpent he once presented, but it was only shortly. The angel dug his heels deeper into his dusty carpet and angled his hips, taking more control, moving faster and with rough, short strokes. Scales appeared and disappeared over Crowley’s chest and he was losing himself, it seemed. His hands started to roam over the table behind them, then Aziraphale’s body, then the floor, for support. His hands kept slipping away.

‘Angel…’

Aziraphale took his hands and pulled him close. He relaxed for a second, catching breath he didn’t know he needed. Crowley wiped his forehead. Slowly, the demon let the angel roll them back and regain the upper hand. Aziraphale took his sex, rubbing his thumb over the amber-colored head.

‘I want to... make it so, dear Crowley…’ He whispered.

‘Give yourself.’ He swallowed, licked his lips. ‘I want you to.’

Crowley groaned, resting his hands on Aziraphale’s arms. His body moved along like a rippling tide.

‘I want you, too.’ He responded through clenched teeth.

Multiple thin strands of obsidian released from his pulsing member, and Aziraphale saw it in a glance before his vision slowly turned to white. He felt a sensation coming over him so strong he feared what it might do to him, yet there was no way to stop it. He felt he was going to cry out, and so he pressed a hand to his mouth, keeping back whatever sounds demanded to be extracted from him. He whined, breathing into his palm, as the demon shivered under him, taking from his body what he needed. He breathed as the demon dug his nails into his buttock. A tear rolled down the angel’s cheek, but he barely felt it. In his brain, the white light spread, and it opened up a gateway in his body. His nerve system split, and it was agony, scorching, magnificent agony, opening up his veins to the outer world. Gold steam dripped from his pores, and through his misty eyes he saw it circling the demon beneath him. He felt the press of his pointy fingertips in his buttocks even more now, and he pressed back at it, to feel them closer to his entrance. It was a forbidden sensation, he knew. He never knew the fire of hell burned so good.

His own balls tightened, and he felt it coming: the end of it all. He dug his teeth into the skin of his hand and grunted as quietly as he could as his body emptied. It was something he had carried for centuries, an experience of immense relief he only now felt worthy of releasing. Because it was Crowley. The one who had started it all. Aziraphale couldn’t help but let his body tense through all of it, sweat through all of it. He had to press his eyes shut to not combust during all of it, but during one of the last draws he heard Crowly’s whispered plea.

‘Look at me.’

His eyes were amber with specks of gold. Tears stuck to the long, dark lashes around them. The pupils wider than normal, oscillating. A movement the angel felt in the other man’s body too, pulling him further in once more. A last time, a thankful gesture.

‘Ah…’ the demon’s breath was on his lips. ‘Aziraphale.’

∞

´I feel so…´

´Dirty.´ Crowley sighed, but then he raised his brows, for Aziraphale had spoken at the same time.

´What did you say?’

‘I said: clean. I feel so clean.’ Aziraphale spoke softly.

‘Clean?’ the demon said.

‘Clean. Empty. Purified.’

‘I feel… Dirty.’ Said Crowley. He thought for a bit, then opened his mouth again. ‘Empty,’ he said. ‘Cathartic.’

Aziraphale let his head roll to the side, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. They were still so bright the demon decided the sun was shining behind them.

‘It almost sounds like we mean to say the same thing.’

Crowley hummed, feeling no need to respond with sarcasm. He ran lazily ran his fingers over his chest.

‘Do you think we should get up off the floor of your backroom, then?’ He said.

‘Now, now.’ Aziraphale said, absentminded, still holding his gaze. Crowley felt how their fingers intertwined. He admitted to himself he could stay down here a little longer. Possibly even until the next Armageddon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to post this, I started grad school and the rest of life got in the way. I hope it didn't disappoint :)
> 
> Let me know if you like my take on the ship, and if you want to read more of this!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, reader! I am new to this fandom and I love Crowley and Aziraphale to bits, as do I love Terry Pratchett's work. I would like to know your thoughts on this fanfiction and I'll try to upload the next chapter as soon as I can!  
x Bear  
bearfeat42.tumblr.com


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